


Historical Perspectives on Increased Exposure to Velociraptors

by escritoireazul



Category: Jurassic Park III (2001)
Genre: Extra Treat, Gen, Male-Female Friendship, ToT: Chocolate Box
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-24 13:45:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8374378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/escritoireazul/pseuds/escritoireazul
Summary: In the aftermath of Isla Sorna, Ellie watched Alan, and waited.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cyren2132](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyren2132/gifts).



Ellie’s heart still fluttered when she looked at Alan. She loved her husband, adored her children, was happy with the life she’d built after the fiasco that had been Jurassic Park, but Alan would always hold a special place in her heart. Their digs remained some of her happiest memories. In the aftermath of their time on Isla Nublar, she held him through his night terrors; he touched her cheek so gently when she drifted off into terrible memories.

She thought, sometimes, that a part of her would love him forever, if only because the sight of him on the island, safety and comfort and love, was so deeply etched into her memory. (It had been a lie, back then; they were still being hunted even as she launched herself at him, buried her face against his throat, ignoring the stench of sweat and terror and dead things for the warmth of his arms. But whether or not they were actually safe, he always made her feel like she could survive anything.)

Ellie brought Alan coffee, sat with him next to Billy’s hospital bed. She was tired enough she couldn’t remember what day it was, how long they’d sat together. She hadn’t yet convinced Alan to leave the hospital, but at least he’d been willing to scrub himself clean in the tiny bathroom off Billy’s room, and he’d napped for awhile, bent over, head resting on his arms, arms on the hospital bed.

She couldn’t sleep like that, but -- and the thought brought a smile -- Alan had always been able to sleep anywhere. 

The doctors kept Billy on some heavy sedatives for most of that first day while they worked on his wounds. His breathing was easy, and his heartbeat steady. She let Alan sleep when he could, and read journal articles on her tablet. Kept the coffee warm; it was terrible even when fresh.

“Hey, Dr. S,” Billy whispered. She looked up, found him blinking at her, smiling a little. “You’re my hero, huh?”

“How are you feeling?” she asked, and set aside her tablet. Scooted her chair closer to the bed. “You’re looking better.”

“Better than after you guys dragged me away from the Pteranodons? God, I hope so.”

Ellie laughed, and that was enough to wake Alan. He mumbled something as he sat up, then shook himself fully awake. “Billy.” His voice was rough. “Billy, I’m sorry.”

“Stop.” Billy tried to wave away his words, but it was a shaky, aborted gesture, as weak as he still was. “It’s on me.”

“I shouldn’t have said those things to you,” Alan said. He met Billy’s eyes straight on. That was one of the things Ellie liked best about him; when he apologized, he looked at you. He didn’t try to duck away from his responsibilities. “I didn’t mean them.”

“It’s okay.” Billy blinked, yawned, then tried again. “It’s okay,” he said, voice fading. “It’s okay.”

He drifted off to sleep, and Alan dropped his face into his hands. Ellie stood, made her way around the bed. Put her hand on his shoulder. She could feel him breathe, feel the bones beneath his skin. He was lean still, strong from digging. Her heart lurched.

“Will you sleep now?” she asked.

He sighed, nodded. Let her take him to a nearby hotel. He showered and passed out. Slept a full six hours while she read, went out into the hallway to call home, napped a little on the top of the covers next to him.

When she woke, Alan was sitting up next to her, reading on her tablet. She laughed, a little, and he turned to look at her, smiled down at her.

“Ellie,” he said, his voice. He took her hand, squeezed her fingers. “Thank you.”

Ellie smiled at him. “Next time some rich guy invites you to an island,” she said, and bumped her arm against his, “here’s an idea: don’t go.”

He shook his head, dropped his chin. “He wasn’t even rich,” he mumbled.

She tipped back her head and laughed.

*

Billy was released a few days later. He had a long healing process ahead of him, but he was alive. Alan was alive. They all were. In her nightmares, Ellie arrived too late. Didn’t get the call. Didn’t figure out what was happening. Didn’t know where to send people. Couldn’t convince anyone to go.

In her nightmares, Alan died, over and over again.

*

Ellie took them home with her, Alan because she knew he needed it, and she needed it too, and Billy because he really had nowhere else to go. He’s a good kid, really. Impetuous, brash, smart -- young.

Billy took to Mark and the kids like he took to everything -- full of energy and enthusiasm.

Alan was polite, friendly with the others, but spent a lot of time alone in his guest room or out in the back yard, basking in the sun. Ellie let him have time for his thoughts, but a few days into the visit, she took two glasses of sweet tea out to him, joined him in the lawn chairs.

“They’re smart,” he said, and there were equal parts terror and joy in his voice. “So much smarter than we ever dreamed, Ellie.”

Too many thoughts whirled through her head. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, turned her head toward him. The sun was warm, the air cool, and she was far away from any island of dinosaurs. She was here, with her family and her best friend. She was safe.

Ellie smiled. “Tell me everything,” she said, and he did.

*

Ellie had never slept much, and the older she got, the less she seemed to need. She paced her house, wrote her books while her family slept, caught up on her reading. She went room to room, checked on the sleepers. Mark was out cold, the kids quiet and still, Billy snoring. 

No sound from Alan’s room.

She padded downstairs, but he wasn’t in the kitchen or the living room or her office, where she’d invited him to pick up his work when he was ready. 

The moon was full, the backyard bathed in cool white light. He sat, head in his hands. Didn’t look up even when she joined him.

“I can hear them,” he said. “Their vocalizations. Their communications. I can hear them, Ellie.”

She could have said, I know. She could have said, Why the hell do you and Malcolm keep going back? She could have said, Sometimes I hear them too.

Instead she put her hand on the back of his neck, scratched her nails lightly along his scalp. That had always calmed him before. He sighed, and his shoulders slumped forward.

“I’m not going back,” he said after awhile. He promised, staring down at his hands. She made a quiet noise of agreement, but she didn’t believe it, not really. Given the right circumstances, he would return. Malcolm already had. Grant already had.

Given the right circumstances -- she thought of her sons on an island of terrible lizards, surrounded by poisonous plants -- Ellie would, too.

“I hope we won’t have to,” she told Alan. She hoped no one ever would.


End file.
